


Replacement

by sasha_b



Series: Live By The Sword [40]
Category: King Arthur (2004), Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: Set right as Lancelot begins to attend the Academy.





	Replacement

  
"What are you doing?"

Lancelot, crouched on his haunches out on the deck, squinted up at Arthur, who was lounging against the doorframe. His arms were crossed and his white button down and black slacks were creased and limp and he looked beyond exhausted, which made Lance's head thump with the beginnings of a huge headache. He smiled brightly and shook his hands out, the dirt that had clung to them flying in clumps onto the three large pots that were ringed around him.

"I am cultivating my green thumb," he said as he rested his butt against his heels. His shoes dug into his ass but he ignored the ache as he wiped sweat off his forehead and nose with a dirty wrist. "That ficus that died last year? I thought I'd try and replace it, but I couldn't pick just one, so," he gestured at the pots. "Don't ever go to a nursery when you can't make up your mind." He stood and rubbed at his back, his knees popping, the sun setting as he sighed and cocked his head. "Too much?"

Two new palms already sat at the edge of the balcony, and the two roses and one decorative rosemary he'd been working on soon joined them as he carted them toward one of the benches facing the street. Arthur leaped forward and helped him carry the final one.

"Well," Arthur said, slowly. "I never think any plant is too much, but five?" He smiled, the dark smudges under his eyes more prominent as he rubbed them. Sitting on the other bench, he stretched out his legs and laid his arms on the back of the thing. "They're great, Lance. I had no idea you were interested in gardening." He yawned as Lance joined him on the bench, his tank and baggy shorts as rumpled as Arthur's clothing. He stuck out his right hand and Arthur took it, wrapping his large fingers around Lance's slender ones, squeezing gently.

"I'm not really. I just wanted to do something for the house," Lance answered, slumping back against the bench, head clunking against the wood. "You've done a lot for me."

He kept staring forward, watching the sun totally disappear, feeling Arthur's gaze on him. The heat from the other man's body warmed him as night came on, the breeze picking up, Lance's skin goose pimpling with it. He sniffed and scrubbed his free hand over his face, fingers landing on the scar that sliced through his eyebrow, thick and twisting and he closed his eyes, smelling the must and dirt he'd sunk his hands in. Soft, cool earth, silent and damp and Arthur slid over next to him, the other man letting go of his hand in order to wrap his arm about Lance's shoulders.

Lance leaned his face into Arthur's stubbled neck, the smell of dirt washed away by Arthur's smell, musk and sweat and cordite and sun and wind and he could feel the steady thump of Arthur's heart against his nose.

"I always will," Arthur answered into Lancelot's hair, the wind tearing the words from his lips. Stars sprinkled the sky and winked as they sat and watched them, Lance's dirty hands slipping to find Arthur's, twisting and twining and Arthur kissed his temple, lips soft and dry against Lance's skin.  "Let's go inside," Arthur said, brushing lips over Lance's mouth once, twice. He stood up and pulled Lance with him, snugging an arm around him tiredly. They walked together to the sliding glass door, Lance ducking under Arthur's arm before they went inside.

"I forgot the tools," he explained, going for the pile of stuff he'd abandoned on the ground. He bent to get them, but Arthur called to him and he stood back up, back twisted to look at the other man, eyebrow raised in question.

"It's okay," Arthur said. "You can get them in the morning, Sir Plantsalot."

The joke rolled off his tongue with ease and it took Lance about five long seconds to realize what he'd just said.

The white shirt Arthur had been wearing went in the dirty clothes rather quickly - the dark brown hand prints on it marring the pristine cleanliness of the bright fabric.


End file.
